


Extra delicate

by mforpaul



Category: Law & Order: SVU
Genre: M/M, Pining, Pre-Relationship, Smut, Watching, barisi and the washing machine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-10
Updated: 2019-04-07
Packaged: 2019-10-25 20:34:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17732201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mforpaul/pseuds/mforpaul
Summary: Carisi fixes Barba's washing machine pre-relationship and no further plot needed.“You really don’t have to do that.”Barba knows that repeating this sentence for the fifth time won’t change Carisi’s mind. But his mother has taught him manners and most of all he had planned to spend his Saturday afternoon reading the newspaper on his kitchen table with an overpriced, tooth rottingly sweet cream coffee in his hand that he had planned to buy on his way from the precinct back home from one of those coffee chains he pretends to hate. Carisi with his presumptuous understanding of what helpfulness means is now officially foiling his plan.“I’m not allowing you to pay two hundred bucks just to tighten a few screws.”I'm so happy that this collection has become a thing!





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [adrianna_m_scovill](https://archiveofourown.org/users/adrianna_m_scovill/gifts).



> Here is my take on the Barisi and the washing machine prompt. Forgive me the terrible pun in the title, I blame a picture adrianna_m_scovill has posted on Twitter.
> 
> Thanks to everyone who is adding to this collection, it's amazing!

* * *

“You really don’t have to do that.”

Barba knows that repeating this sentence for the fifth time won’t change Carisi’s mind. But his mother has taught him manners and most of all he had planned to spend his Saturday afternoon reading the newspaper on his kitchen table with an overpriced, tooth rottingly sweet cream coffee in his hand that he had planned to buy on his way from the precinct back home from one of those coffee chains he pretends to hate. Carisi with his presumptuous understanding of what helpfulness means is now officially foiling his plan.

“I’m not allowing you to pay two hundred bucks just to tighten a few screws.”

By now Carisi had done nothing more than pressing buttons though, realizing that he cannot manage more than eliciting a few clanging sounds from the machine. Barba could have told him this much, and quite frankly he had.

Why Barba had started talking about his washing machine to Carisi in the first place, will probably always remain a mystery to him. Now here they are.

“I’m going to make some coffee.”

“Yeah, I’ll have some, too.”

That hadn’t been his question, but Barba also hadn’t exactly invited Carisi back to his apartment. Then again, if he will seriously repair his washing machine for free, Barba guesses he shouldn’t complain.

Barba walks over to the kitchen counter and turns on the kettle for hot water. His French press still stands next to the sink where he had left it in the morning. He washes it, puts a few spoons of coffee powder inside and fills in the hot water.

All the while, he has his back turned to Carisi who is apparently not done yet switching buttons.

“I’m gonna need to open that one to get a better idea of what’s going on.”

With his accent the words rattle off Carisi’s tongue much like the pathetic sounds that his broken washing machine is making.

Barba turns around to see that Carisi had gotten rid of his suit jacket. Of course, it is July. Wearing that thing in the first place is pure torture even when you're not stuck in a tiny Manhattan apartment without air conditioning. And while Barba could easily just open the window of his little kitchen, he deliberately neglects to do so because he happens to enjoy the view of Carisi’s hair product slowly losing the battle to the heat.

“Don’t you have better things to do on a Saturday afternoon than fixing a co-worker’s washing machine?”

“No, I don’t.”

Carisi pulls his tie over his head and throws it over the backrest of one of Barba’s two kitchen chairs where he had already hung his suit jacket.

Barba knows it is a lie of course. There is no way that “Call me Sonny” with his big Italian-American family has no plans on a Saturday. More than Carisi’s compulsion to be helpful Barba suspects his stubbornness to prove that he indeed _can_ fix a washing machine instead of paying two hundred dollars to a handyman to be the reason for why Carisi has ended up in Barba’s kitchen. After all, this had been their line of discussion that had led to Carisi following Barba back home.

And isn’t it ironic really? It would be a win-win situation if Carisi would omit from repairing his washing machine. He could take the ferry to Staten Island to fulfill whatever uncle duty is expected of him and Barba could have his quiet afternoon with his newspaper.

Now Barba thinks about how early he could pour himself a Scotch without being considered an alcoholic.

“Don’t worry, Barba, I got this. You just sit there and read your paper.”

Carisi opens the first two buttons of his shirt before he turns back to the washing machine. This is how he misses Barba’s pout. Hearing his Saturday afternoon plans spelled out loud from the mouth of a young, aspiring detective/lawyer makes him feel much more like a lame, grumpy old man than he is willing to accept.

“How old is that thing?”

Barba turns to fix them both a cup of coffee. He had long learned that they both like their coffee the same way: too much sugar, not enough milk.

“Carisi, I have no idea how old the washing machine is.”

“Come on, your mother must have told you something about when your aunt bought that thing.”

“She was not my aunt, she was a friend of my mother’s.”

“So basically an aunt.”

“Maybe in your world, but not in mine.”

“Anyway, if your mother didn’t want to throw it away, I guess it must be pretty new. It also doesn’t sound like it’s calcified.”

“If that lawyer thing doesn’t work out, you should consider a career as a washing machine repair man.”

“Maybe it’s about the water point.”

“There's no water point in the bathroom, it’s too small for a machine. This is definitely the place where it needs to go.”

Barba hands Carisi his coffee (out of pure spite he had chosen the Harvard cup for him), before he takes a sip from his own coffee. Feeling the bittersweet taste on his tongue, Barba immediately senses contentment rush through his body. He had needed a caffeine fix. Carisi in contrast contorts his face.

“Mmm, very sweet.” Carisi takes another sip. “But actually, it’s way too hot for coffee. We should have bought one of those Frappuccino thingies on the way.”

Barba closes his eyes for a moment, silently discussing with himself over whether or not he should comment on that.

When Barba reopens his eyes, he stops short.

Carisi takes off his belt and untucks his shirt, apparently to feel more comfortable in a kneeling position. Because this is what the detective does. He kneels down in front of the washing machine and scrutinizes the casing. A strain of dirty blond hair falls out of his coif and nestles against his forehead. Carisi blows against the strain, but it just falls back into his forehead right away.

“Do you have a toolbox?”

“Do I look like someone who has a toolbox?”

Carisi stands up again. “Yes, actually.”

Barba stares at him for a long moment. And then another. For a small while, Barba considers to leave him in the lurch. But then again, he is already here and his quiet old man afternoon won’t happen, so Barba puts his coffee on the kitchen counter.

Without another word, he leaves his apartment and knocks on his next-door-neighbor Leslie’s door. Barba knows that he would need to let her babble a little, before she would go back into her apartment to give him his toolbox. So he listens to a story about someone who had tried her special brownies and pretends once again that he doesn’t know what ingredient it is that makes her brownies special, before he asks her for his toolbox.

“What do you need a toolbox for?”

“It's my toolbox, Leslie.”

“You ain’t need no toolbox.”

“I don’t. A friend of mine is repairing my washing machine.”

“That’s great, Rafa. So I can just wash at your place then when I don’t have time to go to the laundromat.”

“Absolutely not.”

“He hot?” Leslie strains his head for the impossible attempt to get a glimpse of Carisi who, back in Barba’s kitchen, is way out of her sight.

“That’s… none of your business.”

“So yes then.” Leslie reaches inside obviously to grab her keys. “Let me have a look.”

“ _Absolutely not_.”

“Come on, I can’t leave all the ogling to you.”

In pure disbelief Barba stares at the middle aged black woman in front of him, wondering from where she imagines the intimate ease between them.

“Okay, maybe like once or twice a month you can use it.”

Insistently, Barba takes his toolbox out of her hands and grimaces at the ugly smirk that spreads over Leslie’s face.

“Okay, I got it, Rafa.” She raises her two hands. “Good for you!”

“It’s not like that.”

“Of course not. But keep it quiet, will ya?”

Barba lowers his voice to a hiss. “For the love of god, shut up. It’s not like that.”

Leslie closes her door with ringing laughter and when Barba reenters his apartment, he is grateful to have enough control over himself to not be covered in a blush.

“Where have you been?”

“I lent the toolbox to my neighbor.”

“How unexpectedly friendly of you.”

Carisi shows teeth when he smirks mischievously and even winks at him. Barba narrows his eyes to send him a withering look.

“How did you know I have a tool box?”

“It just seems like the thing your mother, or your abuela maybe, would like you to have.”

For a moment, Barba feels puzzled because indeed it had been his abuelita who had bought him the toolbox years ago. Since then only Leslie’s boyfriends had used it.

“Now you sit down with your coffee.” Carisi points with his head to Barba’s kitchen table. “I'll get to work.” Carisi jerks his thumb over his shoulder to the direction of the washing machine. “I can’t promise to be quiet though.”

Barba sits down at the kitchen table and unfolds his newspaper. “It’s New York City, nobody's ever quiet here.”

Barba cannot even be sure if he had read any headline at all, because as soon as Carisi kneels down to rummage in the toolbox he, over the rim of the newspaper, detects what only can be described as a fine ass.

Barba has made up his mind quickly. If he cannot have his boring afternoon, he could at least have this: the ogling.

A good thirty minutes they both spend in silence. Carisi is on his knees taking the washing machine apart. Barba from his front row seat at his kitchen table just watches the show of long fingers, broad shoulders and sweat beads.

“It’s so fucking hot in here.” Carisi takes the front of his shirt between two fingers and moves the fabric up and down in an attempt to fan himself some fresh air.

“It is.” Barba agrees without getting up or even suggesting to open the window.

“Don’t misunderstand.” Carisi smiles shyly before he pulls his shirt over his head.

He now effectively stands bare chested in Barba’s kitchen.

Barba raises his eyebrows.

“Usually, I wear an undershirt, but, you know, in summer it’s too hot.” Carisi awards Barba an apologetic smile.

Openly Barba lets his gaze wander over Carisi’s torso that can only be described as very attractive.

Fine lines outline the contours of muscles on pale skin. A few blond hairs nestle against his chest. Barba had seen Carisi’s forearms many times and is therefore even more delighted that his biceps is drawn just as strongly. Slight outlines of abs besides his happy trail offer an especially delicate view.

The demand of a detective to work out regularly and, as Barba admits bitterly, youth do their due and make Carisi’s upper body look offensively sexy.

“You don’t by any chance have a cold beer, do ya?”

Carisi turns around to the washing machine, exposing his broad back to Barba.

Barba, in turn, widens his eyes. He had just openly checked out the younger man like a piece of meat and Carisi had let it slide. Just like that. Barba blinks a few times, but the situation he is in doesn’t change.

“No, I don’t.”

“And I guess there's no way to make you go outside to the next bodega to get me one.”

Carisi shoots him a look over his shoulder. He smiles, but these blue eyes are dangerous.

“Nope.”

Carisi gets up to his feet and pats over his dress pants.

“Man, I’m going to ruin those.”

Barba raises his brows again and considers Carisi for a long moment. Considering if Carisi seriously implies to consider taking off his pants. Because if he does that, there is no way that Barba _cannot_ misunderstand.

“C’mon, Barba.”

Carisi turns around to face Barba. He leans against the washing machine. Besides strong arms crossed in front of an even stronger chest, Barba notices that Carisi’s hips are just at the same height with the surface of the washing machine.

“And don’t offer me Scotch. I hate that stuff.”

Barba looks up to Carisi’s piercingly blue eyes. He sighs what Carisi must be interpreting as a sign that Barba is willing to give in, because he starts smirking.

“Barba, it’s so fucking hot in here, I need something cold.”

Barba sighs one last time, before he gets up.

“Well, I guess it’s not acceptable to leave my handy co-worker thirsty.”

“ _Absolutely not_.”

Barba is already halfway through the door so he has to turn around again only to catch that Carisi is keeping a straight face.

“Thank you.”

And with those two words Carisi turns back to work leaving Barba behind wondering whether or not he needs to disappear into a hole in the floor. Had Carisi really overheard his conversation with Leslie? Considering the volume of Leslie’s normal voice, he might as well have.

So this time Barba leaves his apartment door ajar before he knocks on Leslie’s door again.

Being pretty is all nice and good, but Carisi doesn’t really expect Barba to go outside to buy beer for him.

“Rafael?” Leslie feigns surprise in a high pitched voice when she opens her door.

“Give me a few beers from your fridge.”

“Aha, and what do you need those for, Mr. ‘It’s not like that’?”

“Leslie, just give me a couple of beers.”

Leslie throws her head into her neck and laughs out loud. “Rafa, only because I love you so much.”

Barba throws his hands up in the air in protest to her in Barba’s opinion exaggerated statement of feelings, but he stops short as Leslie walks back into her apartment to get him a six-pack from the fridge.

“Thank you.”

“Do you need condoms?”

Barba lowers his voice to a hiss. “For the love of god, shut up. It’s not like that.”

“Whatever you say, baby.”

Barba rolls his eyes, but before he walks into his kitchen again, he holds a cold bottle against his burning cheek.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They fuck on the washing machine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There I was thinking I could write a sexy, smut-free, little one shot. Now here I am chapter 2 full of smut and I even have ideas for a third chapter (yes, Jan, yes). Who was I kidding anyway? Nonethless, I'm blaming all you guys. Namely carisicrush, soul_writerr, Ceilidh and endgamehale amongst others.
> 
> Thank you to carisicrush for reminding me to not neglect this story for too long (and wanting a third chapter).  
> Thanks to Jessica for "Oh Rafael".  
> And thank you, as always, to soul_writerr for sending me a review on a vibrator. And you know he is hung for you!

* * *

 

Carisi finishes the first bottle of beer within a heartbeat.

He closes his pink lips around the bottle opening, lifts his head and finishes the bottle in one go.

And Barba just _stares._

He watches how Carisi stretches his long neck, his Adam’s apple bopping up and down. The little sweat beads on Carisi’s upper lip. The strong hand wrapped around the cold bottle.

And all Barba does is stand there and stare.

“I needed this.”

Barba blinks.

With a content sound Carisi puts down the empty bottle and places it on the kitchen counter. A gorgeous smile adorns his striking face when he turns to Barba who has the rest of the six pack pressed against his chest (not that they offer any of the cooling that he had hoped for) and grabs another beer.

For a short moment, Barba thinks his heart is going to stop beating.

“Thank you, Barba.”

“De nada.”

The mumble that escapes Barba’s throat is hoarse, barely there. In fact, Barba would do good to clear his throat and repeat the words because he is not sure whether Carisi had even understood him.

But he doesn’t need to because without another word, Carisi opens the new bottle and turns back to work on the machine.

And again, Barba raises his brows. Bewildered. He had just been stuttering like a school girl, not to mention that he had watched him _(why?)_ drinking beer. _Is Carisi that oblivious?_ Barba doesn’t really think so. But if Carisi isn’t, what the hell does that mean?

Whatever it means, Barba decides to screw it. There are ogling eyes one-sided, no intention to open the window two-sided and most of all alcohol. So Barba ignores the rest of the coffee in the French press and fixes himself a Scotch.

He keeps the first sip as long as possible in his mouth to enjoy the burn. He wants the Scotch to sooth his nerves. He got a little too excited there, but Barba is confident that he will find his posture back soon.

He swallows down the liquor before he turns around again.

And nearly chokes on the mouthful of Scotch.

Carisi had obviously gotten rid of his shoes and socks at some point. But Barba doesn’t care about the naked feet on his gray pile floor. Barba feels struck by Carisi’s hair. His hair is a total mess, damp from the sweat, sticking out in every direction. And Carisi has the tip of his tongue pressed between his lips while he fumbles at something with the screwdriver.

And, not that Barba could forget about that, he is still not wearing a shirt.

Barba puts the Scotch to his lips and empties his glass. He feels incredibly hot in his clothes. Obviously, he needs to follow a different tactic. So far, whatever he is doing now is not working. He needs more alcohol. This is why he fixes himself a generous double Scotch.

Then he sits back down at his kitchen table and, the newspaper long forgotten, just watches Carisi openly. And maybe Carisi really doesn’t realize as he has his back turned to Barba.

Having his back turned to Barba does not stop Carisi though from explaining what it is that is wrong with the washing machine. Even if Barba would have it somehow in him to listen to Carisi, he wouldn’t understand a single word anyway. So all Barba does is tilt his head and supervise Carisi’s work.

He enjoys his Scotch, but not as much as the view.

Carisi has a beautiful round ass. Barba imagines his heels pressing into it to be an absolute delight.

Also his biceps. Barba wets his lips. The strong muscle of his biceps tenses up in the most beautiful way every time Carisi uses the screwdriver.

And his back. The sweaty skin. Barba doesn’t even want to start with his back!

Barba pinches his nose.

He doesn’t want to feel pathetic.

So he downs his Scotch. He gets up. He walks into his bedroom. From his bedside table drawer, he fetches lube. Then he walks into his bathroom and searches his cabinet for condoms.

When he comes back into the kitchen, Barba is sure that Carisi hadn’t even realized that he had been gone. Because he is still fumbling the machine.

Barba places the supplies openly on the kitchen table, fixes himself another Scotch and sits down.

The waistband of blue and grey tartan boxer briefs looks out from under Carisi’s pants when the man leans forward. And there is an actual sweat bead rolling down his back to…

Barba thrums his fingers on the table top. He is starting to become impatient.

He doesn’t know when and how but Carisi had helped himself to another beer. And he is still talking. Barba has no clue if Carisi is doing any of this on purpose or if he is just being Carisi (Barba guesses it is the latter), but Barba is going to have sex with him. It is just a matter of when Carisi would find out.

And to be perfectly honest, Barba doesn’t care a bit about that washing machine. Or two hundred dollars. Right now, he would love to give two hundred dollars to every single person in New York who is able to repair a doddamn washing machine if that would mean Carisi would finally pay attention to him.

Just when Barba is about to open his mouth, Carisi gets up on his feet.

“I think I got it.”

Carisi still doesn’t turn around to Barba. Instead he pushes buttons on the machine, adorably wiggling his ass in anticipation.

Barba’s dick twitches.

“Okay, let’s see”, Carisi announces and presses the start button. He spreads his arms. For full five seconds he freezes in this position and waits. But the washing machine rewards him: With a roaring sound the washing cycle starts.

“Yes! See, I told you I could-“

Carisi had turned around, but as soon as he sets eyes on Barba he stops short. Barba had also taken off his shoes, his tie. He had opened the first four or five buttons of his shirt, hoping that the exposed chest hair would do something for Carisi. But Barba guesses that his heat driven ease in his own home is not what takes Carisi aback. Maybe it is rather the look on Barba’s face. The look of a man who is exhausted by everything. Heat, work, his liquor. So exhausted that all his mind can focus on is pure arousal.

And Barba doesn’t have any illusions about the erection in his pants.

The real realization in Carisi’s face comes about five seconds later. His gaze catches sight of the lube and condoms on the kitchen table and his eyes widen.

Barba empties his Scotch glass and as calmly as he can, he gets up and walks slowly towards Carisi.

He pushes him backwards against the washing machine.

“Oh!” Carisi certainly looks surprised, but with their faces only inches apart Barba studies his expression closely. He cannot detect any unease in the other man’s face. Quite the opposite, these ocean blue eyes had turned dark with lust.

Their hips are pressed together. The mild vibrations from the washing machine shoot through Carisi’s hips right into Barba’s dick. And through the fabric of his pants, he feels Carisi’s impressive erection.

“I want you to fuck me here on that machine. Can you do that?”

“Yes!”

Carisi had answered before Barba had even finished the question. Barba bites his lips. He had been knew that he would love Carisi’s eagerness to please.

Without breaking eye contact, Barba undoes Carisi’s fly. Then he tucks his fingers into the waistband of the boxers and pushes them down together with the detective’s pants.

Carisi winces, but he also cannot tear his eyes away from Barba’s viridian ones. His lips are parted, ready or better say demanding to be kissed.

“Anything _you_ want?” Barba is not able to hide his smirk.

“Uh...”

Within a second Carisi’s cheeks had turned into a dark shade of red color. Barba’s dick twitches dangerously at the sight. If Barba had known that Carisi flushes that beautifully, he would have tried to lay him years ago.

“Say my name?” Carisi swallows hard. With a little more confidence he repeats: “Say my name, uh, when you come.”

Barba tilts his head. _Yummy,_ he wants to say. This is all too delicious.

There is a moment of silence between them where all they hear is the low clatter of the washing machine. They do not just hear it, as their hips are still pressed together they also _feel_ it.

Then nothing holds them back anymore. Their lips crash together. Tongues search each other, lick into each other’s mouths. Carisi doesn’t waste any time, somewhat clumsily he peals Barba out of his clothes. By the time Barba is naked, Carisi jerks him around and pushes him against the washing machine.

“Sorry.” Carisi says, nearly tripping over his own pants that are still around his ankles.

“Detective, please.” If Barba wouldn’t find Carisi so absolutely charming in that moment, he would have laughed. “Don’t apologize.”

Barba buries his face in Carisi’s delicate neck, knowing that he may suck a little too hard at the soft flesh. But the beautiful moans that leave Carisi’s mouth and even drown out the sounds of the washing machine tell Barba that the younger man doesn’t mind much.

Soon Carisi’s mouth starts to wander, over Barba’s shoulder, his chest, the v of hips. Barba closes his eyes and leans back against the washing machine. He does not know which sensation is the more arousing, Carisi’s clever lips or the mild vibrations the washing machine sends through his body. All Barba knows is that his dick is pulsating in anticipation. So when Carisi strokes a few shy licks over his dick, Barba stops him.

“Fuck me, Carisi.”

Carisi is nothing if not eager to please. While he turns for the kitchen table to get the supplies, Barba hops - probably not as graciously as intended - on the washing machine.

Barba instructs Carisi to work him open quickly which he does. There is only one awkward moment where they try to figure out the right position. As best as he can Barba stems his heels on the surface, but what stabilizes him is Carisi’s strong body. Barba wraps his arms around his neck. Carisi places his hands next to Barba’s hips. Barba’s legs are thrown over Carisi’s arms.

There he sits on a working washing machine.

Barely able to move. Dependent on being held. Ready to be fucked.

Barba’s heart beats so loudly. Louder than the washing machine even. Everything about this situation makes his body shiver in anticipation. Being fucked by an incredibly attractive, young man on a vibrating machine, the thought alone makes his head swim. It is like fulfilling a fantasy he doesn’t know he had.

Carisi lips find Barba’s. He kisses him firmly. Three of his fingers stretch Barba’s hole.

“Are you ready?”

"Yes!”

Barba lets out a groan when Carisi pulls his fingers out. But Barba doesn’t have to wait long. Carisi had the condom quickly rolled over himself and lube spread over his dick.

Carisi leans their foreheads together, before he places himself in front of Barba’s entrance. He takes in a deep breath and Barba suddenly realizes that Carisi must be nervous. He is quite surprised, because he can absolutely not understand how Carisi can be this attractive, this strong and quite frankly this hung and seriously be nervous.

“Sonny, I want you.”

Barba only whispers those words against Carisi’s lips, but he is sure that he must have heard him over the sounds of the washing machine.

Because in one smooth motion Carisi pushes inside of him.

“Fuck!”

Barba closes his eyes. Carisi feels huge. And he fucking loves it.

“You okay?”

“Carisi, for the love of god, fuck me!”

So Carisi starts thrusting. And Barba feels like the sky is cracking open above him. Carisi’s cock is filling him up perfectly. The vibration of the washing machine stimulate his prostate, a little bit but not enough. So Barba feels his orgasm building up very slowly, painfully slow.

“Is that good?”

“Perfect.” _A little praise and Carisi will start purring like a cat_ , Barba thinks. “So good.”

The position is less than ideal. Truth be told Barba’s joints are aching, but there is no way that he would move and destroy that beautiful moment.

“You feel so good, Sonny.”

Barba is usually a talker, but he feels like everything in his body is thrumming and pulsating and vibrating. Barba can barely concentrate on anything else than that beautiful man he is holding onto.

“Fuck me harder.”

Just when Carisi leans forward a little more to thrust into Barba deeper, the spinning cycle kicks in.

“Fuck!”

“Oh Rafael, you’re so hot. You’re so tight.”

Whatever endearments Carisi continues to mutter, Barba doesn’t know. Carisi’s deep voice mixes up with the noises of the washing machine. Everything inside of Barba starts to feel hot. His mind goes completely blank. Barba feels that his lips start to tremble uncontrollably, his fingertips, his toes tickle. All the while, his hips bump up and down on the surface of the washing machine due to the spinning cycle.

“Sonny. Fuck. Me. Harder.”

But nothing feels as good as Carisi’s huge dick fucking into him. Hitting just the right spot.

“Sonny.”

Barba wants to take in this wonderful man who is holding him in steady position, but Barba has to close his eyes. He feels like he is losing control over his body.

“Sonny!”

Carisi mumbles something, but Barba’s brain can’t absorb. He feels his orgasm approaching.

_“Sonny!”_

The orgasm rolls over him in full force. Distantly he not only feels his stomach being covered in streaks of his own cum, but also Carisi filling the condom inside of him with his warm semen.

And while Barba is coming down from his orgasm, all that is left for him to do is hold onto Carisi’s body.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The decay of all the washing machine action

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, this is aimless but as Chapter 1 and 2 have ended rather abruptly I feel like I just wanted to let my Barisi and the washing machine story fade out properly.
> 
> Keep adding to the collection, guys!
> 
> And follow me on tumblr or twitter @mforpaul.

There are red dots in his field of vision.

Barba can feel gusts of hot breath hitting against his collarbone as Carisi had lain his forehead onto his shoulder.

The sound of the washing machine swallows the sounds of their heavy breathing. Barba clears his throat before speaking up for Carisi to understand him over the spinning cycle.

“Carisi, I need to get out of this position.”

“Oh. Sorry.”

Barba’s hips and knees are aching from being bent in half. Quite frankly, it had been a while since he had had wild sex like this, a long while if it had ever been this wild, and he is quite happy that these days seem to be not over yet. Anyway, his body is not as young as it used to be, so to say, so he had been not necessarily prepared for being fucked on a washing machine. Now, with the heat of the moment fading away he therefore starts feeling the pain in his joints.

After Carisi pulls away, Barba sits up and stretches his back. His legs feel a little stiff, his muscles feel numb. In his state of oversensitivity the vibrations of the washing machine make him feel uncomfortable. So he tries to hop off the machine, but as he is still on wabbly legs Carisi needs to wrap his long arms around him to prevent him from falling.

Way too fast Barba relaxes into Carisi’s embrace and leans his head against the younger man’s chest.

That had also been a long time, that someone had held him or effectively been cuddling with him. Truth be told, Barba is not surprised at all that Carisi with his long arms proves to be very good at this, too.

“That was… awesome!”

Barba smiles against Carisi’s sweaty shoulder where had lain his head. He feels a weird comfort upon hearing this expectedly over-eager and frankly quite juvenile description of what had just happened.

 _Yes,_ “awesome” is one way to put it.

“I’ve never done this before. But with the machine… this was just… _ugh!”_

Barba closes his eyes and smiles contently. Carisi’s enthusiasm scratches his pride in the right place.

The salty odor of Carisi’s body tingles perfectly in his nose.

He feels very, very satisfied.

“Indeed, it was.”

“And if you don’t mind me saying this, counselor.” Carisi has his cheek pressed against the top of Barba’s head, so even though he cannot see the younger man’s expression Barba knows that Carisi is blushing hard. “But, you’re, uh, you’re really fucking hot.”

Involuntarily Barba lets out a laugh. A content warm feeling spreads around in his stomach.

Of course, he doesn’t mind such a flattering compliment by a handsome, young detective at all.

“Thank you”, he says therefore, a smile still cracked on his face. “But next time, we need to do it somewhere else. My body is too old for that.”

Barba pushes himself away from Carisi. Post-orgasm his body is too sensitive and the humming of the washing machine behind him just irritates him.

“Next time?”

Barba looks up into Carisi’s face. The corner of his mouth lifts up into a crooked smirk.

_Isn’t he adorable?_

Barba had made up his mind quickly that he is planning to keep him. It is only fair that Carisi learns about his intentions.

“Yes, next time.”

Barba finds it delightful how miserably Carisi fails to hide his wholehearted smile. This is exactly the spirit he is expecting from the young detective, so this thing is promising to be extremely delicious. And Barba needs to pull himself together to keep a straight face.

“Now let’s get away from this giant vibrator.”

Barba pushes gently against Carisi’s chest. Even though the air is thick from heavy heat and the odor of sweat, Barba only reluctantly lets go of Carisi.

Sharing an embrace after sex, it seems like a distant memory to Barba but he can’t deny that he likes it.

Carisi chuckles when he steps away from the washing machine. He mumbles something about that he cannot turn it off before the machine pumps away the water inside. Not that Barba cares, but Carisi’s concern only makes him even more adorable.

A little embarrassed Carisi bows for the condom that had fallen onto the kitchen floor.

“Uh, where can I…?”

With one last smirk Barba points to the garbage that is hidden under the sink and walks into his bathroom. He feels too exhausted to even bother to shower. He cleans up the biggest part of the mess at the sink before he splashes some cold water into his face.

Arriving in his bedroom, he opens a window before he falls onto his bed.

He looks up to the ceiling and stretches his limbs.

He feels spent.  
Perfectly spent.  
It’s perfect.

Soon after Carisi follows him. Barba guesses that he must have slipped into the bathroom after him to freshen himself up. With a sheepish expression on his face, Carisi crawls to lie next to Barba, obviously unsure whether “next time” is about to happen right away or if they would simply cuddle. Barba hadn’t exactly told him to follow. Maybe Carisi is even worried that he would be asked to leave.

Barba does not mind to enlighten him. Instead, he takes in the man in his bed.

Carisi is beautiful.

His soft facial features don’t reveal that this man can fuck like a god. But what demands Barba’s attention the most are those pink lips. They are rosy. Not bruised like they should be.

“Kiss me.”

It only takes only one second for Carisi to oblige. He leans forward to press his lips onto Barba’s. And they feel as soft as they look. Carisi’s tongue flicks, parts Barba’s lips gently and soon it feels like they melt together.

Carisi is a good kisser.

_Good._

The weather is too hot to cuddle. The little breeze coming from the open window is only doing this much. Barba’s hands anyway reach out to Carisi’s shoulders and pull him close. Carisi who had been leaning over Barba popped on an elbow lies down next to him fitting his body against Barba’s. Their arms wrap around each other, their legs entangle and they bump their noses together.

Carisi smiles like a fool.

And Barba cannot help but think that he himself hadn’t smiled like this in a long time.

“What are you going to cook for dinner?”

“Uhm, what do you have in your fridge?”

“Nothing.”

“Okay, I can go to the bodega and buy something.”

Barba is very happy with what he hears. Handy, good in bed and doing his grocery for him? It has clearly been a mistake to not go for Carisi earlier.

“It’s okay. I guess there’s enough that you can manage some pasta.”

“But I wanna make some dessert. I mean sex, dessert. It seems like the right combination.” Suddenly Carisi’s face lights up and he smiles at Barba mischievously. “Maybe your neighbor has one of those special brownies for us.”

Barba closes his eyes.

“So you did hear.”

“Yeah.”

“Carisi, I didn’t plan to seduce you.”

“It would be alright if you did.”

Barba opens his eyes again and considers Carisi for a long moment. Again wondering if there had been a plan behind this whole repairing a co-worker’s washing machine scheme. So far it had all turned out perfectly. So he decides to not ask.

“Well, I’m getting hungry.”

“How late is it anyway?”

Carisi lifts his head, obviously to search for a clock on the bedside table.

“Soon enough to cancel your Staten Island plans.”

“Uh.” Carisi clears his throat and looks a little baffled into Barba’s green eyes. “Actually, Ma asked me to help my sister with-“

“You do whatever you need to.”

Barba lifts Carisi’s arms so that he can escape from his embrace. With feigned coolness he gets up from the bed and announces to take a shower. Already standing in the door frame, Barba looks back over his shoulder to Carisi on his bed. Carisi who is obviously contemplating, trapped between feeling conscientious about his duty and his desire to allow himself a good time.

Barba decides that Carisi deserves to be taken mercy on. He had performed exceptionally well after all and based on the few times Carisi had forced his leftovers on him in the precinct, dinner, despite the scarce contents of his fridge, promises to be exceptionally good, too.

So Barba steps back to the bed, leans over and kisses Carisi.

As expected Carisi meets his lips with enthusiasm demanding to be kissed deeply. Barba though answers Carisi’s frenzy with slow, rather lazy energy.

When he breaks the kiss all of the sudden, Carisi lets out a complaintive sound opening his eyes heavy-lidded. Barba only smiles and Carisi swallows hard.

Before Barba closes the door of the bathroom behind him he hears Carisi in the kitchen talking on the phone to his mother apparently pretending to be sick.

“Yeah, I don’t think I can make it to Mass tomorrow.”

With a smirk on his face Barba steps into the shower cabin and washes the sweat away.

Just when he steps out of the bathroom again rubbing his hair dry with a towel, he hears a knock on the door.

Shocked he quickly runs into the kitchen, meaning to stop Carisi without screaming through the flat. It would be embarrassing if his neighbors would hear him preventing his lover from opening the door. On his bare, still wet feed he slides over the sleek kitchen piles, remembering on time that he is still naked and wears back on whatever clothes he can find first, only to hear Leslie’s voice.

“Is Rafa here?”

_Shit._

Barba rushes to the entrance door where he finds Carisi only in his boxers talking to Leslie.

“He’s having a shower. Oh no, there he is.”

“Oh, hey Rafa!”

Leslie shows white teeth when he scrutinizes Barba from head to toe. His hair is still wet, pointing in every direction. Barba had just zipped up his fly and realizes in this moment that he had worn on Carisi’s shirt instead of his.

He looks like someone who had just been fucked. And considering that very attractive man in his boxers next to him, Barba thinks that he probably had never looked better in his life.

Barba lifts his chin.

“Leslie.”

Why she thinks that she is allowed to call him “Rafa” is still a mystery to Barba. Anyway, with a bright, knowing smile on her face she turns to Carisi stretching out her hand.

“Yes, I’m Leslie. Rafa’s neighbor.” Carisi shakes her hand but before he can introduce himself, Leslie adds: “Let’s see. You must be Sonny.”

Hot and burning shame blazes up in Barba’s chest.

Accordingly Carisi’s face is blushing crimson, because of course he understands where she must have heard his name.

With the most jubilant smile Leslie smirks at Barba who bites his lips. Defeated. It really hadn’t been like that, he wants to say but he feels that all his intentions to explain what this is would fall short.

“I just wanted to come over and see that Prince Charming who’s apparently able to do magic.”

Barba closes his eyes to avoid having to watch Leslie eye-fucking half-naked and probably flushed all over Carisi.

“I’m sorry if we were, uh, a little loud…”

Barba reopens his eyes to send Carisi who for some inexplicable reason tries to apologize a look. But Leslie interrupts him and lifts up a plate.

“As I’m here already. I’ve made some brownies, you want some?”

“Oh, that’s great. We were…”

And Carisi falls into a ramble about the plans he has been contemplating in his head about dessert. When Barba starts feeling like Carisi would never stop, he steps in.

“No, thank you, Leslie, we have other plans.”

“Rafael, why? Don’t be rude. I would love to try, Leslie.”

Carisi reaches for the plate in Leslie’s hands, but Barba lies a hand on his forearm.

“No, you don’t want to try these, Carisi.”

“Yes, I do.”

“Yes, he does. They have a special ingredient.”

“Oh, what is it?”

When Leslie opens her mouth to answer, Barba quickly interrupts: “He’s a cop, Leslie.”

“A cop? You better don’t eat these then.”

Leslie takes her plate back from a confused looking Carisi.

“Huh?”

“Just drop it, Sonny.”

“So your beau is a cop, huh?” Leslie scrutinizes Carisi from head to toe. “No wonder he looks like this.”

“Don’t worry, Leslie, I won’t let him walk around in boxer briefs again. Ogle now, you won’t get the chance again.”

Carisi turns his head to Barba, smiling somewhere between puzzled and proud.

“That’s too bad, Rafa, but he seems to be very good at, uh, repairing washing machines. So he’s a keeper.”

Barba keeps looking at Leslie but he feels Carisi next to him raising an eyebrow. That woman with her rainbow colored tights and zebra patterned t-shirt possesses a shrewdness that Barba has to admire.

“Goodbye, Leslie.”

Barba stretches his arms for the door, ready to shut it in her face.

“If he’s that good at cooking, too, mama wants some.”

“Bye, Leslie.”

“It was nice to meet you, Leslie.”

And Barba had already shut the door with a loud thud.

Barba looks at Carisi who stands there, looking back at him expectantly but not demandingly. He doesn’t say a word.

Barba only smirks.

“Don’t you dare wearing back on a shirt.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Love & Peace!

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be smut. This is going to be smut in Chapter 2.


End file.
